


Set Fire to the Memories

by Sarah_P42



Category: Monster (Manga)
Genre: Arson, Dark Past, Gen, Red Rose Mansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 09:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13455456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_P42/pseuds/Sarah_P42
Summary: Johan has been wandering about aimlessly, not sure of what he needed to do. Now, he knows, and he's taking the first step he needs to take to accomplish this goal. He's confronting the place where everything began.





	Set Fire to the Memories

The room may have changed with age and disinterest, but to him, everything was still the same. No matter how much dust there was, no matter if the room was completely empty, save for the fireplace and that painting, Johan couldn’t see any difference from all those years ago. He could’ve sworn he could still smell the deadly red wine and hear the blood curdling screams somewhere close yet far away. 

His footsteps on the wooden floor echoed off the walls, making the room seem much bigger than the reality of its’ size. The emptiness threatened to swallow him whole. As Johan got closer to the portrait of the gloomy woman dressed in white, he began to take off his wig and his clothing. He didn’t need to look like his twin sister anymore - the woman, despite only being a portrait, should see what he really looks like. 

After undressing and dressing again, this time in his own clothing - a brown blazer with matching pants and a black turtleneck - he stood before the woman, with a faint, small smile on his gorgeous face.

Johan bore a strong resemblance to the woman in the painting. The same beautiful face, pale skin, stunning yet mysterious blue eyes and silky blond hair. 

The same went for Anna, his twin sister, which is why Johan was able to pose as her without arousing any suspicion. Almost any suspicion. 

His blue eyes bore into the woman’s, and she forlornly stared right back at him. the silence was so heavy it threatened to crush him. 

Finally, with women’s clothing scattered around him and that cryptic smile of his still painted on his lips, Johan said, “We finally meet. I’m home.”

His mother didn’t respond to him, but that was familiar to him. Even if their mother had given them a home and protected them from Franz Bonaparte for as long as she could’ve, Johan couldn’t forget the heartbreaking day when she chose between him and Anna. When she had chose to give him away. That was the strongest memory he had of his mother, and it had the biggest impact on him as well. 

So, when Johan stared at that sorrowful face, a voice came into his head. His mother’s: 

“Here. Take this one.”

Johan stood, as still as the dead, and continued to talk to his mother. His voice was soft, and hid all hidden resentment he had towards her. “Welcome back. It’s me, mother.”

Silence.

“I don’t think you could’ve ever told us apart, mother.”

Johan remembered that awful day again, this time more vividly. He remembered both him and is sister clinging on to their mother, afraid that if they loosened their grip, they would be let go of. He remembered that twisted look on Franz Bonaparte’s face as he stared down the two identical children, both wearing the same dress and hair. He remembered his mother fighting at the start, but slowly giving in. He remembered the way she had first picked Anna, but when he had protested, she remembered who was who, and gave him up instead. Because in the end, she didn’t want him. 

His mother’s piercing eyes just stared back at him.

“I am her and she is me.”

Images of Anna flashed in Johan’s mind. He remembered the way she greeted him, with the picture book in hand. He remembered wearing her dress and that wig, his mother unable to tell them apart when they weren’t talking. 

“I am you and you are me.”

His mother continued to stare at Johan, that gloomy and hateful look trying its’ hardest to pierce him. But Johan wasn’t that weak. He knew how to hide behind a cold mask of steel.

The sight of all those bodies filled his mind. It was in this very room. In fact, where he was standing, someone had been lying dead. Only Johan and Franz Bonaparte had been standing, breathing. 

“I understand everything now. Where we came from, and where we are heading.” Johan’s voice in the deadly quiet room. He now knew everything, and while he still wasn’t sure if it was all worth it or not, he knew what he was going to do. 

Johan stared out the window, the only source of light the room had. It was a bright, sunny day. The sunlight reflected off the growing layers of dust, and Johan stood in a golden ray.

“The weather outside is wonderful, mother.” He wasn’t lying. It was wonderful weather outside today. 

Johan reached into the bag he brought, and found the gasoline. He finally moved from the ray of sunlight, and moved around the entire room, pouring the liquid on the floor, along the walls, now the sound of the the splashing gasoline accompanying the echo of his footsteps. As he walked through the room, the memory of the corpses appeared as he passed where they once laid. He even stepped over the no longer existent bodies. 

Once he had poured all the gasoline, he went back to that golden streak and stood where he once did moments ago. His mother continued to stare at him with that hateful glare. It was fine, since he felt the same. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pack of matches. 

Johan knew what he had to do. Really, he had known from the beginning what he had to do. And this was a step down that path.

He lit a match and held it over his head. He still wasn't finished with his mother yet.

This was the last time he’d ever see her.

With that soft smile still on his face and his eyes as cold as ice, Johan said, “Let the flames engulf everything.”

Johan dropped the match.

And flames licked the floor of the room.

Johan walked away from the painting of his mother, the flames rising behind him, but letting him go. His footsteps were muted by the roar of the fire that consumed the room behind him. Johan didn’t dare look back. 

The flames reached his mother. Johan kept walking away, the fire almost parting for him. 

As the room went up in a blaze, he remembered everything. 

His mother choosing Anna over him. The look on Franz Bonaparte’s face as he was taken away from his sister. The endless days in a dark room without walls. The red wine. All the dead bodies around him. The thorns pulling at him. The blood on his sleeve. His sister welcoming him back home, the Nameless Monster clutched to her chest. 

All of it played once as he stepped through the inferno. The thundering roar boomed in the background, ashes falling to the floor and flames rising to the heavens. 

Then it stopped as Johan left the room for good. That lack of memories continued as he left the burning mansion. That was the last time he’d enter that room. That was the last he’d step foot in that mansion. That was the last time he’d ever see his mother. 

Good. For what he was going to do - what he had to do - no one could remember him. There had to be no trace left of Johan Liebert. The only one who could remember him was Dr. Tenma, but Dr. Tenma was special.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my files for MONTHS and I'm happy to say it's now finished! Johan is my favourite Monster character, and I love just looking at him and figuring him out. He's so complex and hard to decipher, that it's a challenge, but a rewarding one to tackle something like this. I think it turned out okay, but with more practice, I'll get better at writing him ;)


End file.
